


Remember

by dizzy1204



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: All the nations - Freeform, And the micronations, Assume this everyonexeveryone, Cause that's my headcanon, Don't where I'm going but let's see!, Honestly my first fic, Human AU, Memory Loss, Nation AU, No other languages or accents, Sci-Fi AU, but eh, several OCs - Freeform, well sorta
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-20
Updated: 2015-10-20
Packaged: 2018-04-27 05:34:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5035798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dizzy1204/pseuds/dizzy1204
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>People say we are made out of memories. What if we can't remember?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Author's note: Ok, so this is a my first Hetalia fanfic, so sorry for any errors, I really tried my best, but we all make mistakes.
> 
> Warning: no ships, rather is implied EveryonexEveryone. Sounds weird, but one of my headcanons is that the countries are very pan so instead of writing any romance, I'll just say, everyone has fucked each other at some point. To be bluntly honest.
> 
> Warning 2: Also, the plot of the story might be obvious from the beginning, so just bear with me, I just wanted a place where I could work more with the nation's background and relationships than another typical kidnapped! AU.
> 
> Warning 3: This a Sci-fi!/Human/Nations AU. It'll make sense as time goes on.
> 
> Disclaimer: Do not own, but if I did, APH America would be mine. Or it would be APH AmericaxEveryone. I am wayyyyy too invested in that boy.

PROLOGUE:

"This is the only solution I have for you guys."

"I don't know comrade, it is too dangerous. How are you sure that we would recover?"

"Indeed, how are you so sure that it will work, for all we know it might all be just a ruse to get rid of us!"

"Guys, think about it, we really have no other solution."

"I agree, it is all we can do."

"Then if this fails-"

"It won't. It can't."

"You know that you will be held accountable if this does fail."

"Then we have to make sure it doesn't."

"We still have time, maybe-"

"Even you know that we don't have the time. This is our only choice. We have to do this. Or else we're doomed."

I wake up with a start. Panting, I run my hand through my blonde hair. I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and focus on calming myself down. Slowly regaining my breath, I try to remember what I had just dreamed, but the faces and voices start to fade. "Damnit!" That was the fifth time I saw that dream, and every time it left me with sweaty palms and scrunched up sheets. Something about it felt familiar, I just couldn't put my finger on it. But then again, I couldn't put my finger on many things relating to my memory.

My memory starts exactly 5 years ago, when I woke up in hospital with no recollection of anything except for my name, Alfred F. Jones, and these dreams that keep on plaguing me at night. Dreams that never make sense, always fading away before I could fully realize what I had seen. I only remember snippets of it, flashes of an innocent boy and fearless young man. Colors bled together, violet, green, blue, brown, all these different shades that belonged to different people. Allies, enemies, brothers, sisters, lovers, friends and family, it was all jumbled in these nonsensical dreams. I had long given up trying to untangle the messy threads of my supposed past. I may not know what had happened, but now I built up my life again, renting this small apartment and working as a police officer in a nearby station.

Shaking my head, I pull myself up from my warm bed and squint my eyes towards my alarm clock. 5:43 am. Way too early to be awake, but not enough time to fall back asleep. And it was a Monday morning. Cursing, I stand up and stumble my way to the bathroom.

Slam! My head hit the door. "Fuuuuuuuuuuuuck." That was the second time this week. Groaning, I rub my hand on my head to check if I had any bumps as I open the door with my other hand. I stumble through the dark, and fumble around until I find the light switch and then turn on the lights. Stunned by the sudden brightness, I squint my eyes to adjust to the light, and amble my way towards the toilet to do my business. Finishing up, I face the mirror on top of the sink as I wash my hands. A man with dull blue eyes ringed by black circles and tousled blonde hair blinks back at me. I grimace at the sloppy image, and rub my face. Today was going to be looooong day.

I stretch out my arms as I walked out of my room, stumbling over the messy pile of clothes. "I really need to sort out my mess," I mutter to myself, and slowly start to pick up the discarded clothing.

"Dirty." I throw my boxer briefs to the ever growing pile to my right.

"Meh." I throw the yellow polo to the small pile of questionably clean clothes to my left.

"There you are!" I hug my bomber jacket and delicately put it on my bed. My bomber jacket was one of my favorite possessions, worn from use and love. It was the only other thing I had when I first woke up in that hospital room. I clung to on the hope that maybe, just maybe, it was a clue to my somewhat elusive past.

I pick up the random candy wrappers strewn all over the floor, and throw them into the overflowing trash bin. "I need to take out the trash too. And probably vacuum." I sneeze. "And definitely dust."

After sorting out some of the mess in my room, I huff and lay down on my unkempt bed. The tangled bedsheets smelled like sweat and exhaustion, but I couldn't get myself to changing them. Part due to sheer laziness, and part to due them being very comfortable. I turn my head towards the alarm clock again. 6:29 am.

Tick.

I look at the posters that cover the blank walls, clumsily taped on, paper wrinkled and frayed on the edges. Uncle Sam stared at me from across the room, with his finger pointed at me as if saying 'Get up boy, you have work to do!'. The Avengers were posed heroically over my cabinet, as if they were ready to charge into battle to clean up the remaining mess in my room. Nirvana was rocking out in the corner, as if ready to belt out some awesome tunes.

Tock.

The navy blue curtains billow as the cool D.C. air flows in. The window lets sunlight flood into the room, highlighting the dust mites that seem to be dancing midair. The room basks in warm glow, and time seems to slow down. I close my eyes.

Tick.

I open my eyes again and look up. I watch as the ceiling fan goes in lazy circles. Once. Twice. Thrice. I count the cracks on the ceiling. One. Two. Twenty-Three.

Tock.

6:30 am. I get up again, shove on my glasses, and pick out random clothes from the questionably clean pile and get ready for the day.

...

Shrugging on my bomber jacket, I walk out of my apartment and lock the door behind me. Turning around, I see my neighbor, Ms. Fujimoto, limping her way with her grandson, Akio, in tow towards the elevator.

Ms. Fujimoto was a nice old lady, a bit on the short side and her gray hair always in a bun. She was always baking me chocolate chip cookies and bringing them over to my apartment. Her motherly smile and wise brown eyes were always a comfort, and she was always ready to hear any of my concerns.

Akio was the total opposite. A master prankster at only age six, his impish grin and mischievous demeanor always resulted in him in getting into some form of trouble. He was short kid like his Obaa-san, always pouting whenever I patted his spiky black hair. Apparently, I always ruined his cool Dragon-ball Z look that he worked so hard to do with hair gel. He never failed to make me laugh on a bad day.

Painting a smile onto my face, I wave at Ms. Fujimoto and Akio.

"Good morning Alfred!" she calls out.

"MORNING ALFIE!" Akio yells.

"Morning to you guys too! How is your leg today, Ms. Fujimoto?" I call back.

"How many times to have tell you to just call Akako? Ms. Fujimoto makes me sound old,"

"But Obaa-san, you are old!"

A genuine smile cracks out, and I grin at the odd pair.

"Oh hush Akio! My leg is just fine yesterday, but my poor knee started to ache awhile ago. I think a huge storm might come soon,"

"Aww, I was hoping for sunny day! There have been lots of storms lately,"

"I believe that this is going to be a big one. Take care of yourself, ok? Tell your boss to let you come home early. That man overworks you anyway,"

"Thanks for the warning, I'll try to come back home before the storm hits! Bye guys!"

"Bye Alfred!"

"BYE ALFIE!"

I head towards the stairs and run down the steps. I lived on the 10th floor, so it was a nice run down. It helped me get my blood pumping and ready for the day. Finally reaching the bottom of the steps, I come out to the lobby.

"Hey there Ms. Abbott!" I call out to the front desk secretary. She was the new secretary, only starting a couple days ago. She was a pretty little thing, with coffee-colored skin and chocolate eyes, her curly hair always tamed in a ponytail. The old secretary, Ms. Ackerman, got into a serious car accident, and so Ms. Abbott took her place.

"Hello, Mr. Jones!" she called back.

"How is the new job treating ya?"

"Quite fine, if I say so myself,"

"Good to hear that!"

"Be careful by the way. I heard that there was a storm coming,"

"Yeah, I heard. I gotta go before I'm late for work. Bye!"

"See you!"

Emerging outside of the apartment complex, I whistle my way down the street, walking towards the parking lot. I pass by several of my busy neighbors, and exchange greetings and how-are-yous. After some conversation, I reach my ride.

Tony, my motorcycle, was my pride and joy. It was a dashing Harley-Davidson motorcycle, a cost me a shit ton of money just to fix up this beauty. It was chrome silver with red accents, a bit unusual for a motorcycle's coloring, but it was the result of a few too many Budweiser's and car spray paint. I found Tony in some old junkyard, rusty and missing some parts. I took it a nearby friend's garage and fixed it up after buying a few spare parts. Took me awhile, but it was worth it in the end.

"Hey there Tony," I say, as I put on my helmet on my head. I straddle my motorcycle, and start up my motorcycle. "Ready to go?"

I zoom out onto the busy D.C. streets, leaving behind all my worries. I just focus on the thrill of the feeling the wind against my face and the sun beating down my back.

Well, I would if it weren't for the D.C. traffic. Damnit.

...

I finally pull up to the Washington D.C. police station, and park my motorcycle in our designated parking lot. I walk out of the parking lot and onto the sidewalk. As I pass by, I see a busker belting out something that seemed like garbled rendition of Lady Gaga's "Poker Face" while strumming a guitar. While I wasn't exactly sure what was going on, I throw a few dollar bills in his guitar case. He tips his hat in thanks.

I walk into the police station, exchange more greetings with my coworkers. After some back slapping and exchange of wild weekend stories, I shrug off my bomber jacket and go down to place it in my locker. I take out my city-issued uniform, quickly go and change, not wanting to be late again. I walk out and wave at some of the people typing away at the desks, and make my way towards my boss's office.

My boss, Mr. George Wilkins, was a big man, with an even bigger beard. He was the head of our police branch, overseeing who goes where and who does what. Since, I was still partnerless (my last partner was currently on her maternity leave) I reported to him alone.

"Alfred, my boy," he says with a booming voice, "Looks like you actually made it in time for once,"

"I try boss-man," I reply with a grin, "Any special case for me today?"

"None so far," he says back with sad smile, "Sorry kid, but it looks like that you are out of luck today too,"

"Awww man! So paperwork and patrols again?"

"Seems like,"

"Well, consider it done sir!"

Mr. Wilkins grins and pats my back. "That's what I like to hear, kid,"

I grin back and shuffle my way to my designated desk. It's been awhile since I had a real case. I missed the thrill and action of actually doing something. These days, it seemed like all I did was read and sign official papers or patrol the city for nonexistent criminals. And talking about papers, there were already several stacks of paperwork that I had to fill that day. And I probably would have to go on patrol in a few hours. It wasn't that I wanted to promote any crime-doing, but waiting on my ass all day long is no fun. I look at the clock hanging on the side wall. 7:34 am. Really, today was going to be a loooooong day.

Taking a deep breath, I resign myself to another day of boring paperwork, as I click my pen and start filling the papers.

...

After a multiple stacks of paperwork are done, and my eyes successfully glazed over, I look up to see the clock. 12:04 pm. "Shit, it's lunchtime!" I quickly stand up and go down to my locker. After putting on my bomber jacket again, I shove my wallet and my phone into my pocket and quickly jog out, ready for some fresh air and food.

I look up to see the sky was still clear. "It seems like it's not raining anytime soon." I whistle down the street, walking down to look for the nearest restaurant. "Aaaah, I'm so hungry," As if on cue, my stomach grumbles. "I better get some food quick." But before I could even walk in anywhere farther, my phone starts blaring 'Party in the USA'. "Shit, shit, shit, shit," I fumble with my phone before I can pick up the phone.

"What the fuck Nico, when did you change my ringtone?" I growl into the phone.

"What you don't like it?" Nico teases me, "I thought it suited you perfectly fine,"

Nico was one of my closest friends. We met at a local bar, complete strangers and completely wasted, and we instantly hit off. His family owned an Italian restaurant, La Famiglia, where he worked during the weekdays as one of the chefs. I often went there to chat with him and mooch off his food for free.

"Whatever, why did you call dude? You know it's lunchtime, and I am starving,"

Nico chuckles, "You are always thinking about food aren't you,"

I roll my eyes, "What did you want?"

"Ok, ok calm your jets. I just wanted to invite you to supper at Mama's house tomorrow night. It's Papa's birthday tomorrow, so Mama told me to invite you."

I grin. Mrs. Abbatelli was an absolute mother hen, always trying to get me to eat because I was "too thin" in her standards, and honestly, I never complained. Her food was amazing too, which was always a plus.

"Aww man, that sounds awesome! Do I need to bring something?"

"Probably bring some of that expensive wine shit- Ow Mama that hurt, sì, sì- you don't need to bring anything,"

I chuckle, "Mama's boy, eh?"

"Oh shut up Al, as if you are any better."

"True that. Anyway tell Mrs. Abbatelli I'd love to come, and ask her if she needs some help before the party?"

"She says that it would be lovely if you could help,"

"Well thanks for inviting me, but I am really hungry, so I gotta go. Ciao!"

"Ciao!"

I shake my head as I pocket my phone and continue my way down the sidewalk.

...

 

After lunch and dinner, some more paperwork, and a relatively easy patrol, I look up at the clock once more. 7: 39 pm. My shift was over a few minutes ago, but I linger to finish signing some more documents. After submitting in my documents and my patrol report, I walk down to the lockers once again. There, I shrug on my bomber jacket and head on outside.

A few stray droplets hit my head, and I look up to see the threatening clouds just on the horizon. I quickly make my way to Tony, praying that I could make it home before the real storm began. But as I approach my motorcycle, I notice a group of people wearing strange white uniforms standing in front of it. Walking closer, I notice that one of the people standing there was Ms. Abbott. Except she was not wearing her usual business suit, rather she was in the same weird white uniform.

"Um, may I ask why you guys are standing in front of my motorcycle? And um, Ms. Abbott, what are you doing here?"

Instead of responding, Ms. Abbott turns to one of the other people and says, "That's him, ma'am." The lady who seems to be the leader of the group just nods at one of the men. He steps forward towards me.

"Woah, woah, can someone please explain what is going on? Why are you guys here? What do you want from me?"

And like the beginning of every typical dystopian story, all he says is, "Mr. Jones, you're coming with us." Really. That explains sooo much. And then I all I see is black.


	2. I: America

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alfie's first day. Awwww~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's note: Heyyy I'm back. I originally posted this on ff.net, so I am making a speedy update.
> 
> Warning 4: There some stereotypes, but its not going to be that much. So no, Italy is not going to go around saying Ve or stuff like that.
> 
> Warning 5: This is all going to English. No, they are not speaking English, but it is all translated and stuff. It'll make sense later.
> 
> Warning 6: No accent writing. Ikr, no accent writing? I just feel like that would take away from the story, so I'm going to try my best to show the characters through their style of talking rather than accents.
> 
> Disclaimer: Nope. Still don't own Hetalia. Or else Alfie would be MINE.

CHAPTER I:

Everything is a blur. I weave in and out of consciousness, trying so hard to focus on something, but I just can't focus. All I see is a mix of white and silver blobs. Andddddd, I still can't figure out what the hell is going on.

Have I been abducted by aliens or something?

Wait, why would aliens kidnap me?

I hope they don't probe me. That doesn't sound too fun.

To my side, I hear one of them asking, "So this is him?"

That doesn't sound alien.

Unless aliens know how to talk like human females.

I think.

Can guys' have really high pitch voices too? I don't know.

They have a American accent too. Like me!

But they must be really smart aliens if they know English.

'Cause English is weirdddd language.

Amidst my rambling I hear another voice pipe up, "Yep."

Ooooooh an accent. British?

"Now shut your yabber."

Nah. Australian.

An Australian alien…

Wait, is that even possible.

Oooh when they were learning the language they learned it from an Aussie.

But why did they other gal (guy?) speak in an American accent?

Deeply thinking about the dilemma of the possible abduction by aliens with Australian accents, I go down under again.

...

I come back and hear another voice say,"He resisting such high dosage, their bodies are truly remarkable."

Their bodies? Is he, assuming that it is a 'he', talking about human bodies?

I mean if they are aliens then they must be talking about human bodies

… right?

"I heard that he had super strength," another voice chimes in.

What. I had what?

Dude, it's true that I can bench press sometimes, but I'm no Captain America! Are these aliens weak or something?

Weirddddddd...

Everything starts to get fuzzy, and I black out again.

...

I wake up in daze again, but this time to see bright lights from the ceiling.

Ow.

Bright lights and just waking up equals eyes in pain.

It hurts.

Everything hurts.

"What the fuck? Where the hell am I? What is this place?" I grumble, trying to get up from my bed- a bed why am I on a bed now.

"Oof!" My body collapses back onto the bed and I try catch my breath from the fall. "Owwwww," and everything hurts like hell.

I lie on that bed and close my eyes. My eyes still hurt-hell everything hurt- plus it took way too much effort to move now.

And judging by the fact that I was most likely kidnapped, there was no way in hell I was getting out of here easily.

Fuck.

But first thing first, I needed to figure where here was. I turn my head to scan the room.

Everything looks fuzzy- and that might be cause don't have my glasses on now.

I squint and pat around me to see if my glasses were anywhere. After a few vigorous pats and the discovery of another foreign object- I find my glasses. I jam them on and look around.

The walls were blank, and the only furniture was the nightstand beside me. That must have been the foreign object I had patted.

Looking across I notice another bed with a nightstand, similar to mine. The blankets were crumpled up and there is water bottle on the nightstand.

It seems as though my new roommate is not here now.

To my left, I saw a door.

Wait- A door! Maybe there was a way to escape.

I try getting up again, slowly this time. My whole body throbbed in pain but I managed to at least sit up. I pause for a few minutes, trying to catch my breath, and then try getting up again. The pain increases but I manage to stand up. I slowly limp my way to the door, holding the door knob-

-The door opens, but it wasn't me-

-Someone is standing there, reaching out a hand-

-And I black out again. Great.

...

I wake up once more in that damned bed. Clutching my head, my pain now feels like a dull throb in the background. I try sitting up again, but my body doesn't want to cooperate with me.

And suddenly feel hands supporting my back.

Wait- hands-

"What the hell?!" I yell, finally sitting from the boost of adrenaline. I look up to see a fuzzy shape.

"Who the hell- don't you dare get near me," I hold out my hands, trying to defend myself.

The fuzzy shape moves back, "Look, it's alright, I'm not going to do anything to you."

It sounds vaguely Canadian.

I glare at the shape. "And how can I trust you?"

"Well for starters, if I wanted to harm you, I would have done so already," The Canadian It mused.

I crossed my arms, wincing a bit, but try keeping on my brave face. "Yeah, yeah that's what all the kidnappers say. Next thing you know, you develop Stockholm Syndrome, and fall in love with your captor and then your parent's come and you don't to leave anymore- and then the kidnapper goes to jail, and there is this emotional scene-"

The Canadian It lets out a giggle, interrupting my dramatic storytelling.

I shut my mouth, cheeks getting warmer and my eyes still glaring at It.

"Well at least could you stop glaring at me?"

I glare even harder.

"Fine stay- wait here."

It puts something on in my face, and suddenly I can see better.

And I see that the Canadian It was not a It after all, it was another guy.

A guy who looked a lot like me. The only differences being that his hair was curlier and his eyes seemed more purple than blue.

Wait - what?

"Holy shit man, you look just like me!"

My apparent twin stumbles back in shock. "Maple, do you have to shout?"

We stay there frozen until I burst out laughing.

"M-maple?! What kind of c-curse word is that? Is that what all you C-canadians s-say? Can't say I'm s-surprised, you lot can't even hurt a f-flea."

He blushes bright pink and looks away. "W-well you Americans are too brash. And go into everything guns blazing!"

I laugh even harder.

"S-shut up!"

I fall back on my bed, clutching my stomach and wheezing like some old geezer. I wipe some stray tears before I look up at him again. He's just standing there, still bright pink and looking towards the ground.

Wow I'm a douche. I just met this guy, and I already went off laughed at his face? I straighten up and hold out my hand.

"Sorry about that. Why don't I introduce myself? Name's Alfred F. Jones, but folks call me Alfie or Al. You?"

He takes my hand and shakes it firmly. "Matthew Williams. Pleased to meet you Al," he says smiling.

I grin back. "Mind if I call you Matt? Just easier for me remember that way."

He looks a bit taken aback, but nods.

We stay there, smiling at each other.

Something about Matt seems familiar, I just couldn't my finger on it.

I break the silence again. "So where are we exactly?"

He shrugs. "I don't know, I woke up here just like you did."

Sitting up slowly, and wincing a bit too, I ask, "But what's outside the door? I was trying to go out-"

"Yeah your escape there went real well, Captain America." Matt retorted.

I pout. "Don't need your sass right now."

Matt just smiles apologetically.

Rolling my eyes, I ask again, "But what is out there? I would try going-" I try to stand up again and almost fall down spectacularly, but Matt grips my arms and eases me down. "-and as you can see I'm not exactly in my best shape now."

Matt looks towards the door as he responds, "A series of hallways that lead to nowhere. There are no windows around, at least not that I know of."

"Any other people though?"

"The scientists and the others."

My eyebrows furrow, "The scientists?"

He looks at me this time. "The scientists were the ones who brought us here. I don't know why they want us or what they are going to do with us- but well here we are now."

I nod. "I remember bits and pieces after they kidnapped me and before I woke up here. Said I was resisting a high dosage? My body feels as though it's been poked and prodded."

He nods and looks away. "That happened to me and the others too." He quirks up an eyebrow, "Although we never did wake in the middle of whatever the scientists were doing,"

I ignore his quip and continue on asking, "And the others? You mean they kidnapped more people like us?"

Matt looks down and nods.

I had more questions burning on the tip of my tongue, but before I could say anything, my stomach decides to growl.

Shit.

This time he laughs and I flush bright pink. I scowl as I watch him double over, glaring at him until he stopped.

Clapping his hands together- finally, I thought he was going to laugh himself to death- he looks at me and says, "You must be hungry. Let me go get you some food. You can meet the others later."

I try getting up in protest, wincing again in the process, but he just pushes me down.

"It's ok, just get some more rest, I'm sure you'll get to me the others once you are better. We're not going anywhere," He bitterly chuckles.

I just nod, too tired to give a damn about anything. "You better bring something other than maple syrup and pancakes though. You Canadians may live on that stuff, but we Americans need something more filling like bacon."

He chuckles again, but this time it sounds a bit brighter.

I lie back down on the bed, and wave him off. He smiles and walks out. I close my eyes…

...

… I wake up to the scent of bacon in the air. Scrambling up from my bed, I was ready to take on the day. Matt stood to the side, amused by my antics.

"Looks like someone is energized. Amazing I never knew someone could be so excited about bacon," he says, his lips quirking upwards.

I ignore him and make grabby motions towards the plate. He rolls his eyes and gives me the plate. I drool at the sight. It was almost heavenly- bacon, cheesy eggs, toast- the whole shebang. But before I could do anything, my stupid stomach grumbles again. Matt covers a hand over his mouth to stifle a giggle. I ignore him and take a bite.

I feel like I just died and went to heaven. The food was amazing, it felt as though it melted into my mouth.

"Enjoying yourself there?" Matt's voice cuts through my nirvana moment. I roll my eyes and extend the plate.

"Want some?" He shakes his head, and I shrug, digging in to my food.

"Ow lo wa I nok o fo?" I ask with my mouth full.

Matt quirks up an eyebrow. "Sorry I don't speak food-in-the-mouth," he snarked. I roll my eyes again and swallow.

"I asked, how long was I knocked out for." He shrugs this time.

"I don't know, we can't really tell how time passes in here." I look up to him, confused. "The scientists let us know when it is eating time and curfew time, but other than that we don't really know how many minutes, days or even weeks have passed."

I look down at my plate, my appetite disappearing. "Sorry Mrs. Abbatelli, looks like I didn't manage to make it to your husband's birthday party." A bitter chuckle leaves my mouth. "Looks like I couldn't even help clean up beforehand anyway." I place the half-eaten plate onto the nightstand.

Matt looks at me concerned, but I wave him off with a fake smile. "It's ok, it's not like I knew that I was going to get kidnapped." He looks like he is about to protest, but I cut him off. "C'mon let's go meet the others. I'm dying to get out of here."

Matt still gives me that look, but rolls his eyes and holds out a hand. "Let's go then. Time to face the music."

I look at him. "They can't be that bad." His face pales a bit, as he gravely shakes his head.

"Just wait till you meet this bunch."

I slowly nod my head, a bit scared of who I was about to meet. I take Matt's offered hand and stand up. He catches me as I stumble a bit, but I soon regain my balance. I give him a thumbs up and slowly straighten up. Matt continues to look at me with concerned eyes, but I soldier on. I was not going to let some pain best me.

"They sure did a number on you didn't they," Matt commented. I shrug.

"I don't know what the hell they did, it just hurts like fuck."

"Glad to see that pain doesn't dull your potty mouth," Matt says, smirking. I shove his shoulder, and he stumbles forward a few steps. He looks back at, eyebrows raised. "Looks like you are feeling better already."

I look at my hands in surprise. I still felt a bit weak, so how did I-

Matt waves a hand in front of my face. "Hello? Earth to Al? Everything alright?" I look up at him and nod, although I feel a bit dazed. "Let's go then, the others must be waiting."

I stumble again. "W-waiting? Wait, they already know that I'm here." Matt looks at me amused.

"Yeah. It's because whenever someone new comes, the scientists give this big announcement in the cafeteria," he says picking up my unfinished plate and walking towards the door.

"Cafeteria?" I ask, following him. He opens the door and I walk out first. He wasn't kidding when he said it was all just hallway that looked like they led to nowhere. The walls were blank except for several doors that were marked by numbers. The lights were on the ceiling illuminated the place. It was deserted save for Matt and I.

"Where else do you think do think I got all that food from," Matt snarks, "There are several different types of rooms here."

"Different types of rooms?" I ask, puzzled by his wording.

Matt ignores me and starts walking towards one end of the hall. I follow him like a lost puppy. "There are rooms, like the one you and I are sharing. We have room number 136, you better remember that." I nod. "Then there is the cafeteria, basically where all the others hang out."

"That's where they give the announcements right?"

Matt smiles and nods. "Catching up quick aren't you? Other than those rooms, we have the library-"

I cut him off. "Library? Why that?"

Matt shrugs. "Who knows with the scientists. But other than that, we have the 'locked rooms'-"

"Locked rooms?"

Matt nods. "They are the only other rooms that we don't have access too. No one has been able to figure out what they are for yet."

'Locked rooms'... They could have a clue as to why we are here..

Matt waves a hand in front of my face. "Al? You listening to me?" I look up to him and nod quickly.

Even though Matt feels familiar and seems like a decent guy, I'm not ready to trust him completely just yet. I file the information in my head for later.

Satisfied with my nod, Matt continues on his description. "Other than that, there are the experiment rooms." Noticing my raised eyebrows, he elaborates. "They're the rooms that the scientists sometimes takes us to study us or something. No one ever knows what happens because we are always too drugged to figure out."

I look at him, alarmed.

"How else do you think they would study us?" Matt snarks at me.

"I don't know, but why- I mean are they even giving any explanation? And why hasn't anyone protested-"

Matt cuts me off this time. "People have tried to escape, but… it's never ended well from what I heard."

I open my mouth to ask about it, but Matt quickly walks forward. "Come on, let's just get you to meet the others. You can ask the rest of your questions then."

I pout, but follow.

...

After a few minutes of walking down the hallway and making a few turns, we reach a set of double doors. Matt was quiet the entire time, and I decided not pester him even though my tongue was burning with questions.

Matt opens the doors and I walk in to see a shit ton of people. They were all of different ages, different colors, probably even different nationalities. The noise of chatter fades down, and everyone turns around to look at me. Matt quickly walks towards the back of the room, probably to put away the plate, leaving me to fend off all the stares.

Fucking shit.

I quickly become composed again, and raise a hand to wave it at the crowd. "Hey guys!" A chorus hello's echoes back to me.

"Name's Alfred F. Jones, but you can call me Al or Alfie." I pause and then add. "If you want." I give them my best grin. The crowd nods and goes off to their own conversations. My shoulders slump, and Matt sneaks behind, tapping my back.

"Fuc-" I quickly spin around. "Matt."

Matt offers me an apologetic smile. "Sorry... I just don't do well with crowds. But it looks like you handled the situation quite well. Kudos, not everyone's able to smile on their first day."

I rub the back of my neck, my cheeks warming up. "Whatever you say."

Matt just smiles and points towards one of the tables to my left. "Come one, let me introduce you to our wing mates."

"Wing mates?"

"Remember the series of doors we saw beside our room? Well they live in those rooms. And since we all live in the same wing, we kind of stick together."

I snort, and Matt shoves me. "Shut up, Feli came up with it."

"Feli?"

"You'll meet him soon. Real ball of energy that one."

As we approach the table, I notice the oddity of the group. Two blond guys are bickering, one of the brunette's is scolding the other brunette, who was holding the arm of another blond guy, who was conversing with the black-haired guy. A white-haired guy-who looked surprisingly young- was cackling, and another blond guy was sort of creepily smiling. Wow, looks like this is gonna be fun.

"Hmm?" Matt asks, and I realize that I just said that aloud.

Damnit.

"No, I was just uh, noticing the liveliness of our wing mates. Ya know with their bickering and cackling and really weirdly smiling and all."

Matt chuckles nervously. "Yeah, that's the group all right. But trust me, they are really not that bad."

I raise an eyebrow. "Whatever you say Matt."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's note: Oh no, what's gonna happen next! Well that's for me to know and you to find out. If you see any mistakes, please let me know! Thank you to those who have Read/Commented~ And please Kudos/Subscribe/Comment/Bookmark ^.^
> 
> Also shout out to Forest_Girl for commenting me about my mistake!
> 
> -acrazyfangirl4

**Author's Note:**

> Author's note: So that was it! If you found any error, feel free to tell me! Also, if you want to criticize, feel free to do so, but please constructive criticism. Not "Oh your story is horrible, take it off!" That doesn't help me be a better writer. And if there any inaccuracies regarding police work or anything, please let me know. Other than please Bookmark/Subscribe/Comment ^.^
> 
> \- acrazyfangirl4


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